


Reminiscence

by krstein



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krstein/pseuds/krstein
Summary: [MAJOR SPOILER FOR ANIME WATCHERS!]After returning from Marley, Jean decides to go pay his mother a long-awaited visit.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein & Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse & Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse & Jean Kirstein, Sasha Blouse & Jean Kirstein & Connie Springer, jean kirstein & mother
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> Before I begin, this short passage was heavily inspired by one of @qweetii's drawings on instagram! I doubt this will get any reads but if it does... check her out :)

It was the morning after the scouting regiment had come back from Marley, and as much as Jean wanted to continue his slumber, he couldn't.

Jean stared blankly at the ceiling, with his hands rested behind his head. The sun lit the room a yellow saturation, one that would normally correspond to happier day. The songbirds chirping away would've made the morning seem straight out of a fairy tale, but luckily Connie's snores were able to overpower them. Unfortunately, Jean was too filled with despair and grief to acknowledge the weather.

He let out a sigh and slid his hands down his face, rubbing his eyes then tracing his sideburns. It still hadn't hit him; Sasha was dead. She wasn't coming back, she was gone for good. He looked to his left and saw Connie on the bunk bed across from him. He was drooling on his pillowcase while he dozed off, most likely having another inappropriate dream.

Jean's eyes caught sight of the top bunk. That was where Sasha used to sleep, whenever the three of them shared the dorm. It was so odd not having Sasha dangling off the guardrail while she, too, snored and drooled in her sleep. Jean's mind was gutted with the gory images of Sasha, and couldn't help but imagine her pastel pink bed-sheets stained and splattered with vibrant blood. He was overflowing with distress and sorrow.

With a grunt, Jean sat up from his bed and slipped his feet into some slippers. He decided it would be best to get out of bed and prepare himself for the day ahead — perhaps it would make him feel better. He tiptoed to the bathroom without making much noise, trying not to wake Connie. Sasha's passing hit Connie much harder than anyone else, and Jean hoped that he had slept well to clear his mind.

After using the toilet, Jean gripped onto the sink counter and leaned forward, letting out a large sigh. He looked up at himself in the mirror and inspected his face; his eyes had grown noticeable bags due to how much he'd sobbed the night prior. He turned the tap on and rinsed his face off, and ran a wet hand through his lengthy hair to neaten it up.

As Jean began preparing his toothbrush to brush his teeth, Connie walked into the bathroom, looking even worse than Jean did.

"Morning," Connie croaked while rubbing his eyes.

"Hey," Jean muttered, beginning to brush his teeth.

Connie joined in and brushed his too. The boys stared at themselves lifelessly in the mirror, both faces puffed from the day before. Jean rinsed out his mouth.

"How are you holding up?" he mumbled, wiping his face with a towel.

Connie spat out his toothpaste and said, "Hardly holding up at all."

Jean nodded in agreement, empathizing for Connie — they were going through the same pain, but Jean felt like he needed to be Connie's shoulder to lean on. The room fell quiet, and Jean decided to head out and get dressed. But before he could exit the bathroom, Connie cocked his head to the side and broke the deafening silence.

"Have you..." he paused.

Jean turned back and hummed, "Hmm?"

Connie sighed, "You should go pay your mother a visit."

Jean hung his head and thought about Connie's abrupt suggestion. He hadn't seen his mother since before the building of the dock, and felt a visit was long overdue.

"Sure," Jean agreed. "Why so sudden?"

"What happened with Sasha," Connie sputtered. "Got me thinking about my parents, too."

He fell silent, and Jean waited patiently for him to finish his explanation.

"I— I don't know," Connie sighed. "I just figured you should see her... Lucky you, she's still alive. You should appreciate her more."

Jean stared at Connie through the mirror, and nodded. "You'll be okay with being alone today?"

"Don't worry about me," Connie forced a chuckle. "I'll be fine. I just want to sleep through the day."

"Okay," Jean muttered, proceeding to put on a pair of the black khaki pants he wore in uniform. 

Jean eyed Connie returning to his bed. He sulked into it and tensely ran his hand through his short hair. Jean also wore a solemn expression — they both had Sasha on their minds. Jean buttoned up a white blouse and headed towards the door. Connie lay down on his bed and kicked away his sheets, letting out some anger.

It was so unnatural for Jean to see Connie so unhappy and frustrated. He almost didn't know how to react or what to do when Connie would lash out — like he was doing then.

"Dammit!" Connie loudly muffled into his pillow.

"Connie, there's nothing we can do about it now." Jean stated sternly while putting his feet into his boots.

"I can't!" Connie cried, screaming into his hands and pillow, his voice cracking every time he sniffled. "I can't live without her! She was all I had, man! She was my other half! I feel useless without her!"

Jean rushed to Connie's bedside and held his shoulders down, trying to keep him still. 

"Where were our minds?" Connie continued, "Why weren't we paying attention?"

He gave him a look dead in the eye and said, "We can't go back now. We'll live. We'll be okay."

In slight shock, Connie shoved Jean away from him and hid himself in the messy covers he kicked away earlier, leaving Jean with no answer.

Jean sighed and began walking out. "It'll be okay," he told Connie.

He grabbed his Scout's trench coat as he headed out the door and turned back one last time before exiting, and said, "Stay safe, Connie."

Jean walked the streets of Shiganshina, pondering about how the newly re-built part of the walls was once tattered and destroyed, completely abandoned, bloodied and infested with titans. It gave him the slightest bit of hope — how the world could change so fast... for the better and worst. He caught the first ferry boat into Rose, who's final destination was his hometown of Trost. He leaned on the railing and stayed near the very end, trying to stay away from as many people as he could. He needed alone time to clear his mind, think about life. 

Jean loved the ferry rides; they soothed him. He emptied his mind and relaxed, letting the cool breeze hit his face and swerve through his hair. Looking out, he saw green fields and forests for ages in the inner Maria wall. Those greens were once wilted and withered, and an awful, stale golden colour. This part of the walls was also once titan territory. It had only hit Jean at that moment; he really helped retake the walls. He did that with comrades he never thought he'd work along with. It gave him a feeling of fulfillment, knowing he'd helped such a great deed.

If only he was able to celebrate longer with the one he cared for the most.

The gate opened into Trost and he exited the ferry boat. Memories of Jean's childhood began flooding his mind — along with the memories of the Trost attack, and seeing his hometown littered in dismembered bodies and blood-stained walls. He tried his best to keep only the good memories, and discarded the rest, because they were a part of the bitter past, and not worth holding on to.

Finally, he turned onto his street. There was an immense feeling of nostalgia; all the familiar townhomes he saw every day walking back from school, or the alleyways that the bullies would steal his lunch money in. The thought of it made Jean chuckle. Oh, if those bullies were to see him now.

As he approached the exterior of his childhood home, Jean could feel his heart beginning to race and his nerves acting up. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

There was no answer, so Jean knocked again, and again, and again... until someone poked their head out of it.

The woman at the door wore an unimpressed face and retorted, "Do you n—"

She paused when she saw the tall figure in front of her, and looked up at him. Jean cracked a smile at the sight of his mother worked up. There was a moment of admiration between the two, before Ms. Kirstein began shaking and tearing up at the sight of her grown-up son. She moved her hand up to her mouth and smiled joyfully.

"Long time, no see, mom." Jean greeted her.

Without hesitation, Ms. Kirstein wrapped her arms around her son's torso, catching him by surprise with the hug. Jean stifled a chuckle and returned the favour, gently wrapping his arms around his mother, holding her in a warm embrace.

Jean's mother was still baffled by the height difference between Jean and herself, and starting thinking about how fast the time had gone by. She could've sworn that just yesterday Jean was a small baby, excited to eat a fresh omelette.

"Jean-bo, it's really you!" She gushed, sniffling.

"Heh," Jean began. "Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that?"

"Right, sorry," Ms. Kirstein laughed. "You've gotten so big..."

Jean pulled away from his mother and wiped the tears of joy off her cheeks. He smiled, grateful that his mother was still doing well. He wished he had treated her better as a teen, but it was never to late to start.

"Come inside, dear." She insisted. "I'll make you something. Tea? Coffee? Food?"

Jean chuckled and followed his hard-working mother inside. "A tea is just fine. Don't tire yourself,"

"Oh, please!" She retorted. "It's nothing."

Ms. Kirstein led Jean into the living room, where the fireplace had been lit up. She began fixing pillows and cleaning the coffee table, stuffing her hands with loose papers and empty dishes that she had laying around.

"Sorry for the mess, Jean-bo! I was doing some cleaning before you got here," She apologized.

Jean laughed again, "Don't worry!"

Jean's mother stopped and cocked an eyebrow at Jean, who was still standing, as if waiting for instructions.

"Stop standing like that, dear! This is your house too, remember?" She scolded him. "Sit, please."

"Ah, right," Jean whispered. "I forgot."

Ms. Kirstein shook her head and left into the kitchen. Jean sat himself down at what used to be his favourite seat in the house. Being inside his childhood home made him feel homesick. It really showed him how far he'd come; not only with his profession, but also as a person. The old fashioned couches, tables, rugs... and the paintings that he had drawn as child that have been framed on the walls. Jean couldn't help but smile like an idiot, thankful that he still had all of this... especially after the Trost attacks. But even though he was there at that moment, he still missed his home.

Ms. Kirstein came back with two teacups, placing Jean's on the coffee table and sitting on an armchair across from him. He leaned forward to it, and began playing around with the tea bag.

Jean's mother began the questionnaire. "How was the trip to Marley? Must've been very tiring, I'm sure."

Jean sighed. "The trip... that bastard Eren started another war."

"I'm sure he meant the best — you're always telling me he does these things with good intentions in mind, right?" Ms. Kirstein engaged.

"I just wish he hadn't gone this far this time," Jean muttered.

Ms. Kirstein noticed something was wrong; by the way Jean hung his head so low to the look in his eyes. "Is something the matter, Jean-bo?" She asked.

A shadow cast over Jean's eyes, and his hair fell onto his face when he sulked. He blinked harshly trying to hold back the tears, and gulped, swallowing his emotions. His mother rushed to his side and wrapped her arm around him, beginning to comfort him.

"Don't be upset, dear!" She tried cheering him up. "What happened?"

Jean inhaled shakily. "Sasha..." he stuttered. "She— she got shot."

"Oh, dear," Jean's mother pulled him closer and caressed his shoulders.

Jean buried his face in his mother's chest and began silently letting out the tears.

"Is she...?" Ms. Kirstein started.

Jean shook his head and tightened his grip on the fabric of his mothers apron.

Ms. Kirstein understood the situation, and decided it would be best to remain silent until her son cheered up. She grieved with him, holding him tightly, knowing the strong emotional attachment her son had with Sasha. She couldn't bear to see her son like this, but at least this time she able to hold him and calm him down, caress him and be there for him when he didn't have anyone else to lean on. Ms. Kirstein understood that Jean was always trying to be there for people, but sometimes he needed his own person. She loved her son dearly, and respected the man he was growing into.

At best, Jean was beyond glad he decided to see his mother, as it was just what he needed at a time like this. It gave him peace of mind knowing that she was doing fine, and was always there to catch him when he fell. He was in need of her motherly touch — to tell him everything was okay when things weren't...

...just like his younger days.


End file.
